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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753188">Flesh and Bone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhileImStillHere/pseuds/WhileImStillHere'>WhileImStillHere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band), PIG (UK Band), Skinny Puppy (Band), Tim Sköld (Musician)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Vampire, Betrayal, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Character Turned Into Vampire, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Murder, Sensuality, Stabbing, Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:01:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28753188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhileImStillHere/pseuds/WhileImStillHere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An attraction turned fatal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nivek Ogre/Trent Reznor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Flesh and Bone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a very violent story with some sensual themes but it's sort of a gorefest. Reader discretion advised.<br/>Inspiration from Dracula and American Horror Story: Hotel.<br/>Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">ADDICTION</p><p class="western">White light blared only for a moment, and then he could be made out in the darkness and smoke of the stage like a ghostly apparition in a graveyard, just the sort of aesthetic Ogre wanted. Once his eyes adjusted, Trent took in the sight of him, a coy grin playing on his lips.</p><p class="western">Nivek was never one for extravagance when performing. His choice for the theatrics were costumes, tricks of the light, and all the fake blood he could use. A recreation of the <em>Nosferatu</em>. It had always inspired Trent how artistic he was, and maybe he wanted to know what to do to simplify his stage presence and use that simplicity to draw in his audience. Which was probably the reason he tagged along with Nivek’s band in the first place as a roadie.</p><p class="western">Perhaps it was not the only reason.</p><p class="western">Trent held a certain attraction to Ogre, and the sort of feelings he harbored for him, he could not quite place as platonic, romantic, or even sexual. He understood and acknowledged that Nivek was indeed an attractive and charismatic showman, but there was something deeper. Each time he was near him, Trent’s pulse quickened, his blood ran from hot to cold to hot again, and his mouth went dry from something more than just an interested desire. He would not label his thoughts as wanton, but he often wondered if Nivek ever noticed the way he looked at him sometimes. Trent never shared these thoughts with Al; the man would call him “faggot” as a joke or worse, mention it to Nivek himself. No, it remained Trent’s little secret, and he continued his observation from afar.</p><p class="western">The lights dimmed once more, and Nivek just barely caught a glimpse of Trent at the side of the stage, far from the view of the audience, watching wistfully, watching him. He decided he would put on a show then, allowing the mental eroticism between the two of them to fester amidst the cacophony of the crowd and the grating of the music. Nivek allowed it to fester, like a swollen, open wound, and the warm red cascaded down from the top of his head, through his hair, down his forehead, and over his raw, red lips. None of this could be demonstrated through words, though. Nivek would rather show than tell, and when he glanced back to look at the peepshow, he saw Trent’s lips, wet and parted. Invigorating, he thought, rubbing it over his skin, over his chest and neck, feeling it run, drip into his mouth. He grasped the microphone, caressing it like his lover and then strangling it like his victim. He seduced the crowd; he seduced <em>all </em>that watched.</p><p class="western">By the end, Trent made his way through the backstage, heart throbbing in his chest. He sauntered to the dressing room, the one he knew Nivek would be in and reached out a hand to the doorknob. The sound of a low, louder than necessary groan met his ears, stopping him instantly. Nivek. He almost smiled, although he barely knew why. As much as it would be invasive to barge in, Trent turned the handle determinedly until another moan reached his ears that made his face fall and settle into a firm, grim expression. It came from a woman, a fan, a groupie no less, and Trent felt entirely ridiculous approaching after all.</p><p class="western">He would not call this new feeling jealousy, but something distasteful met his tongue, rancid in his mouth, and he nearly turned away in embarrassment. Perhaps it was the frustration that fueled him to whirl back around, reach for the knob, and burst in, eyes flaming, heart pounding for much different and less satisfying reasons. All of it shied away at the unbelievable sight before him.</p><p class="western">Nivek sat reclined in the lone chair, face hidden, buried in the crook of a young woman’s neck. With a large, capable hand fondling her naked breast, he clung to her like a viper, free hand reaching around to grip her exposed thigh, nails digging in leaving crescent moon shaped marks. The scene itself was more than erotic and obscene; it was intoxicating and infuriating at the same time, and Trent found himself entranced by the way he held her, just by the way he caressed her skin, gripped her flesh when she made any noise at all. Her expression revealed one of utter ecstasy, brows furrowed, lips parted in a silent moan.</p><p class="western">Then the woman grew restless, it seemed, shifting, almost struggling against Nivek’s grasp, and the sounds that escaped her lips were strained, pain-filled moans. Nivek only responded by gripping her tighter, pressing himself against her almost violently, but with such ease only shown through him. He remained calm it appeared, and that was when Trent saw the dripping crimson. Cool and calculating as a serial killer…</p><p class="western">It was blood. Trent froze at the sight and instantly sucked in a breath when the girl began to scream. Nivek’s hand over her mouth silenced her immediately, and while Trent stood frozen in fear, he could not help but seem drawn to the scene.</p><p class="western">A strangled, muffled moan broke from the girl, wrapped in Ogre’s chilling embrace, and then her restless movements and struggles slowed, lax, and then eventually ceased altogether. Her neck fell away from Nivek’s mouth as she fell back nearly unconscious, and then Trent saw the teeth- not teeth, <em>fangs</em>, sharp, stained red. But the drops of blood that dribbled down his chin were black, black and garish. <em>Blood. </em></p><p class="western">When Trent’s breath hitched in the back of his throat, Nivek heard it, snapped his head forward in his direction, eyes flaming, blazing hotter than two suns. He stood, dropping the woman carelessly as if she were nothing but a rag doll. Before he could take one step forward however, Trent spun around and raced for the door, his only intention to flee the scene.</p><p class="western">Nivek met him head on, face to face, those two piercing eyes stabbing into him. He flashed him a cunning smile. “Hey, Reznor.” Trent saw nothing but darkness soon after.</p><p class="western">AND WE BURNED AND BURNED</p><p class="western">“Wake up, sleepyhead.”</p><p class="western">Nivek’s voice crooned muddled and far away, a dream that only cleared when Trent managed to crack open his eyes. He felt fingers stroking his cheek gently, soothingly, and for a moment, he almost felt safe. For a moment.</p><p class="western">When Trent finally allowed his eyes to flutter open, darkness still remained, like static, like the fuzzy screen of a television. After what seemed like a good five seconds, his vision began to clear, and Nivek’s lovely yet harsh-looking face came into view, gazing down at him thoughtfully and even a little smugly. Every bit of blood on his face had been washed away, and he actually did not look like a killer to Trent as he stared right back. Even behind those eyes, something sinister lay beneath.</p><p class="western">“Good.”</p><p class="western">He still stroked his cheek almost affectionately like one would a lover to which Trent thrust his head away, shifting uncomfortably. He tried to speak but found he was gagged. He tried to move but found himself bound to a chair in the privacy of Nivek’s home. Nivek chuckled as he watched his captive glance around wildly. “What?” he sneered. “You didn’t actually think I’d leave you back there, did you? To tell everyone what you saw?” He clicked his tongue, shook his head. “Pathetic. You did.”</p><p class="western">Trent blinked up at him in a sort of dumb-founded disbelief.</p><p class="western">“Surprised?”</p><p class="western">Trent gave a short grunt and bawled his hands into fists behind his back. Nivek simply tittered again and leaned forward, casually removing the gag and tossing it to the side.</p><p class="western">“What are you…?” Trent’s voice was soft, frightened, like a little bird, Nivek thought with another sneer.</p><p class="western">“I think you know.”</p><p class="western">It took everything for Trent to maintain his composure at his words. He swallowed hard, trembling, “Are you going to kill me then like you killed her?”</p><p class="western">“Ah, yes,” Nivek remembered. “My little stunt. Well…” He breathed in almost carelessly, haughtily. “Don’t worry. She was just a little snack.” He accentuated the last word with a snap of his teeth like a wild animal; Trent couldn't deny that he was.</p><p class="western">“Then what do you want with me?” Trent’s voice remained soft, softer than normal, and he detested how vulnerable he sounded. Nivek’s eyes glittered at the delicate question, his snarl more evident on his harsh-looking yet beautiful face as he bent down, leveling himself with Trent. The silence was deafening, threatening, and Trent began to dread his impending answer. In fact, he found himself growing weaker by the minute and doubted it was just apprehension fucking with him.</p><p class="western">Nivek’s voice was deep and husky as he reached out a gruff hand to grasp his chin. “I finally get to know what you taste like.” His grip was like iron and steel, but the thumb that brushed over Trent’s soft, plump lower lip was gentle and possessive. To his delight, it drew out a helpless whimper from the back of his throat. “Thankfully we can do something about that.” He so longed to hear that sound again.</p><p class="western">When Nivek finished speaking, Trent felt a teasing tug at the inside of his elbow and instantly glanced down only to behold a hypodermic needle protruding from his arm. Attached to that needle was a tube, one of which his blood would eventually flow through. Trent’s eyes widened at the sight, and he snapped his head forward to look his captor in the eyes, in betrayal or disbelief; Nivek saw both and his grin widened as he stood up.</p><p class="western">“Oh, don’t look at me like that!” he scoffed. “I would assume someone that infatuated with me would be more than willing to give me a taste.” Trent only blinked, and Nivek went level with his face again, those piercing eyes far too captivating to allow him the choice to look away. “And <em>fuck, </em>Trent, I’ve wanted to know what you taste like for a long, <em>long </em>time.” Nivek’s breath was warm and sweet; Trent almost thought it would be rancid and gamey, so as soon as his breath fanned out over his neck, Trent found the intoxication he felt towards this creature begin to grow, and his eyelids fluttered as he promptly and unexpectedly moaned.</p><p class="western">“What sweet sounds you make,” Nivek murmured huskily, offering a soft, wet lick to the side of Trent’s neck and ushering a short gasp out of him. “You’ll be making more noise very soon.” Trent felt him fiddle with the tube at his arm and immediately snapped out of his daze to stare at his dark crimson blood streaming out of his veins very slowly. He began to hyperventilate, eyes widening in fear.</p><p class="western">“Please don’t kill me! Please!” Trent babbled helplessly, but his restless struggling proved only to be futile. “There’s so much I… so much I wanted to… needed to…” He could not finish. The finger to his lips caressed him there, studied the movements, the quivering of his mouth.</p><p class="western">Nivek eyed the movement of his blood down the tube greedily and then stood up nonchalantly. “I haven’t decided <em>what </em>I’m going to do with you yet,” he growled, reaching for the bit of cloth and gagging Trent with it again. Trent whined against it in protest, eyes pleading with Nivek, but his captor grabbed him by the chin, watching him with a steely gaze, following everywhere his own eyes went. “If you struggle, you will only wear yourself out more,” he warned, staring at the way Trent’s lower lip trembled against the gag and feeling himself relish his fear. There was something so dangerously erotic about the way his body shook as he bartered helplessly with his life. Beneath Trent’s pale, perfect skin, Nivek could just barely make out every nerve ending, every muscle and organ, every vein and artery pulsating blood within his body. Such a sight to behold; it allured him, aroused him, and he sighed, thoughtfully tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind Trent’s ear.</p><p class="western">Trent felt his strength fade ever so slowly and torturously with each passing minute, so much so that he could not pull away fast enough when Nivek reached out a hand towards his neck. Rather than wrap his fist around Trent’s throat and squeeze, Nivek instead ran the back of his hand down the side, almost in a loving gesture. His gaze had changed, softened.</p><p class="western">“Wait here,” he soothed, pulling back and straightening.</p><p class="western">If Trent tried to say something, to beg at all, Nivek only heard incoherent noises, and his wild, wicked grin returned.</p><p class="western">“I’ll be back soon.” And with one last sneer, he turned on his heel and left, shutting the door behind him and leaving Trent, his blood continuing to drain.</p><p class="western">IT CAN GO A LITTLE DEEPER</p><p class="western">Trent groaned inwardly as his vision grew fuzzy for the thousandth time. His chin rested against his chest, and his head felt far too heavy to lift. Rushes of hot and cool surged through his body down from his neck and towards the small of his back, but all he could feel was the soft, sickly tugging sensation from his arm, down that tube, and into the large back slowly, painfully filling with his blood. Already the bag was more than halfway filled.</p><p class="western">“Nivek…” Trent thought he screamed it, but it barely came out as a whimper against the gag. He did not know whether he wanted to vomit or pass out, but every feeling of death warmed over made him long to do both.</p><p class="western">Even so he remained at war with his mind and body. Trent was under Nivek’s thumb, and while he struggled against it, he also embraced it, constantly refusing the denial within the pits of his stomach until every bit of his strength had left him, and he only ended up slumping back in his seat, whimpering helplessly. When he thought he called out for his help, he realized he needed him to bring him relief because no one was coming to save him. Nivek had the power and he held the whip in this abnormal lust for his blood. Trent had to force himself to look away from the ghastly sight of the bag filling up and with each passing minute, he grew weaker and his head fell forward against his chest once more. He would die if things continued this way.</p><p class="western">“Oh dear, I think someone’s had enough, hmm?”</p><p class="western">Trent barely raised his head, but he knew it was him. A large strong hand grabbed him by the chin and thrust his head up to look into the mesmerizing face of Nivek Ogre. A few locks of his dark hair fell over his eyes lazily, and for a moment, Trent thought he was gazing at his savior, some dark angel. That fallen angel grinned, turning his head this way and that. Trent’s eyes rolled back when he carelessly let him go, and a broken, weak moan fell from his lips. Nivek stepped back and advanced on the tube in his arm, removing the needle skillfully and rubbing mindlessly at the bit of blood that managed to drip onto his fingers. A small, devious smile slipped onto his face, and he brought those fingers to his lips, eyeing Trent and sucking them clean.</p><p class="western">Nivek’s expression immediately changed as soon as Trent’s red blood hit his tongue. Like a moment of clarity that morphed into a thrill of ecstasy, Nivek’s eyes widened and then softened slyly, glittering with something that resembled greed or hunger or both. He stared right at Trent as he did this, and Trent, vision hazy, watched as his tongue tauntingly flicked out over the tip of his fingers, still savoring the taste of his blood.</p><p class="western">The groan that erupted from his lips sounded more than ravenous and dangerous; it was lustful, erotic, <em>carnal</em>.</p><p class="western">When Trent came to for the second time he supposed, the bag was gone, and he lay across the carpeted floor in a feeble heap. When he painfully cracked open his eyes, his vision fluctuated between fading and clearing until someone appeared before him, and then the dots formed again. Everything echoed, every sound, including the voice of his captor, who knelt down, hand out-stretched, running through his shaggy, long hair and forcing him to look up at him. He smelled like raw meat, mayhem. As he spoke, his voice resonated, vibrated through every nerve ending of his body, drew him to this creature in fervent intoxication, thrilling, fatal attraction. Trent would scream if he could to break the spell, but he had no strength left to scream, only to listen and obey.</p><p class="western">“Not a sound,” Nivek growled. Then he leered at him as he continued, “I want to thank you for the splendid refreshment you offered me and my guests this very night. They were so thrilled, they even wanted to come up and thank you themselves. In fact, they were ravenous over you. I realized that wouldn’t do.” Trent found himself nestled in Nivek’s arms, face hidden, limp in the crook of his neck and shoulder. The scent of gore flooded his nostrils and made him retch. “I realized I want you all to myself. So I killed them.” He said it as plainly as commenting on the weather, and Trent shivered at his words.</p><p class="western">“So… so you are… going… going to kill me…” Trent’s eyelids fluttered, his countenance rueful and wan.</p><p class="western">Nivek’s own expression was cruel and somewhat unfeeling as he responded with a snap in his voice, “Not yet.”</p><p class="western">DEVIL WANTS TO FUCK ME</p><p class="western">Trent woke under soft sheets with his head resting against plush pillows. For a moment in his brain, safety appeared evident, and he almost smiled dreamily and tried to sit up. His nerves were shot however, tendons and muscles ached, and every part of his body, every limb screamed from weak exhaustion. Trent instantly felt sick to his stomach, swallowed it down in disgust, and remembered. He was still in Nivek’s home, presumably in Nivek’s bed, still weak from blood loss, blood that Nivek took from him. With a frustrated, futile whine, Trent glanced to the side and saw him sitting there, a face of condescension as well as pity with a bland breakfast in his hands. Scooping it with a spoon, he offered it to Trent, fed it to him as if to add to his weakness and humiliation with cooing words that told him he needed to keep his strength.</p><p class="western">It continued this way through a meal by the afternoon and a smaller one by the evening until midnight came.</p><p class="western">Nivek came to him in that hour of the dark night when he was regrettably still awake. Then he tied him to the bed and fed off of him slowly. Trent came to realize the weight of his intentions; he wanted to make sure that he remained alive but just barely. He wanted him, and he would have him, to feed, to use, to control. Trent knew it on the third day, swallowing from the silver spoon Nivek offered him as his quivering lips closed around it.</p><p class="western">“You should just get it over with,” he mumbled under his breath, the dull, numb pain of Nivek sucking from his forearm making his vision blur and spot. Those eyes, dark and piercing and ravenous, seemed to glow with each swallow as the creature stared up at him while he drank. Beads of Trent’s blood dripped down his chin when he pulled away, mouth hanging open in a sort of ecstasy at the taste.</p><p class="western">“Is that what you really want, Reznor?”</p><p class="western">He did not expect him to speak. Normally, he fed and then left. When he spoke, Trent grew drawn to his voice out of the weakness of his body and spirit and hung off of every word. He held the whip.</p><p class="western">“Do you really think I would just let you die?” Trent gave him a look that affirmed he assumed the worst of it, and Nivek chuckled. “No, there is a life after death, Trent.”</p><p class="western">Trent huffed softly and looked away. “I stopped believing in that sort of thing a long time ago,” he muttered.</p><p class="western">This time, Nivek sneered, and the wickedness in his eyes gleamed. “In case you haven’t noticed, I wasn’t created by something holy.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind Trent’s ear tenderly and continued, “Yes, this life is everlasting but under service to no one. That god is dead, Trent. We are the new gods of our own choosing. And humans will fear and revere and lust for us.”</p><p class="western">Trent watched him brandish the knife, in awe and fear and lust for him, lust for what this creature had to offer him, what sights he had to show him, and then he watched him turn the blade on himself. Nivek parted his leather jacket, chest rising and falling slowly and evenly and pressed the knife to his flesh. Blood formed and followed shortly after in beads and then in streams, cascading down his stomach. The more he saw, the more Trent found his mouth watered, and he hardly knew why. As it flowed, Trent longed to move closer and taste it; his thoughts betrayed him, terrified him, and he gave Nivek an accusatory glare.</p><p class="western">“What have you done to me?”</p><p class="western">“A bite from a vampire will turn a mortal,” Nivek replied. “Unless I killed you first. You see, Trent, there is a reason I have kept you alive. For now.” Trent let out a sharp gasp when he grabbed ahold of his throat. The gesture was sudden, and he thought he would squeeze; he certainly could if he wanted to, and Trent would die instantly, but with inhuman strength, Nivek hauled him up to his knees, cradling his jaw and the back of his head in both hands. Trent’s breath came out shuddered, shaken, braced for the worst, but Nivek’s touch remained tender, gentle, careful, though the former knew that one wrong move and it would be over.</p><p class="western">“I tasted your blood, Trent,” Nivek growled in his ear, “and now you’re mine. Permanently.” His gaze followed Trent’s to his chest and the blood running down it, and with a triumphant noise, he asked, “Can you smell it? You’re just itching to have a taste, aren’t you?” Thumbing at his lower lip, Nivek smirked, and his eyes glittered as they flitted over Trent’s dazed countenance. “Go on. Indulge.”</p><p class="western">There was pressure, and Trent found himself moving down by the firm guidance of Nivek’s hand at the back of his head. Nivek’s essence flooded his nose and then something warm and gamey at first met his parted lips. Trent retched and tried to fight him off, but the hands held tight, so tight they could crush his scalp like nothing. Nose pressed into his chest and restricting his airflow, Trent decided it was no use and opened his mouth, eyes squeezed shut at the vile, metallic taste that met his tongue, and slid down his throat. As disgusting as he felt, he could not deny how erotic it all was. The soft tug to his hair, possessive and controlling, the look Nivek gave him so filled with lust and purpose, the fucking sounds he made as he forcefully drank his blood. Suddenly the gore became as sweet as black licorice, and what Trent had fought, he now clung to curiously, beginning to savor every drop. Nivek caressed him, like nursing a newborn infant, and the gesture alone almost seemed loving in the freakish way Trent made it out to be. When the creature finally allowed him to come up for air, Trent coughed and sputtered, eyes watering, heart pounding wildly right in his ears, deafening him. Warm blood ran down his chin, and he shivered, maintaining eye contact as best he could.</p><p class="western">Wetting his lips, Nivek, looking gleefully debauched and more than pleased, rasped in his ear, “You can’t just live as this, though. You’ll have to die first.”</p><p class="western">Trent felt the hands at his neck first and then heard the grating crack before darkness met him shortly.</p><p class="western">STAINS LIKE THE BLOOD ON HIS TEETH</p><p class="western">Trent woke to the sound of distant bells and knew immediately that something was not right. They chimed in endless, monotone repetition, jerking him awake, calling him to a consciousness of bleak, numb nothingness. In that instant, his strength left him but left this gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, urging him to crawl out of the bed with its blood-soaked sheets and move towards the door, left conveniently ajar. Every bit of Trent’s being felt as dry as a dead leaf, floating from a tree of black bark and withering branches and laying helplessly on dry earth, waiting to be trampled on. He worried that one wrong step and he would crumble to dust and brittle bone, to absolute nothingness, as the nothingness he was conscious to. Trent whimpered softly but was not entirely sure that the sound was his. The noise came from an animal surely, a creature that needed and wished to be put out of its misery.</p><p class="western">The gnawing sensation in his guts resumed; it reviled and interested him, something deplorable but sensual that would open like Pandora’s box if he so decided to indulge in it. A ravenous hunger churned in his insides, and Trent, crawling, dragging his body on his stomach, opened his mouth to scream for something or someone to satiate it, but no sound came out. His vocal chords rubbed like sandpaper and gravel threatened to escape his throat and rip him open.</p><p class="western">“Nivek…” He thought he screamed it, but all was quiet, somber, drenched in dark and doom. When Trent pushed open the door, its weight was like steel; he thought his arm would break. Out of the damning room, he met a new horror, and the bells of hell resonated in deep chime once more as a familiar riff of an electric guitar haunted his ears.</p><p class="western">Bodies littered the floor of the long, yawning corridor in a red, garish state of mayhem. Their throats slashed, their stomachs eviscerated, their bowels spilling over the floor, each of them lay as emaciated husks, as though they had been drained in seconds. Faces remained in states of permanent horror and agony, eyes hollow, cheekbones long and wan, and mouths opened in a pained snarl, their teeth sharpened to fine, dangerous points. Trent stumbled over each of them, some crumbling to mere ash and dust while the rest remained fresh in gore yet stiff and cold. The smell of them should have been rancid; it should have made him choke and retch on their death, but the scent itself to him was sweet, noxiously sweet.</p><p class="western">Before him was a door, but it did not lead to a way out, and behind him was all in the same.</p><p class="western">Nothing he could do now. Nothing as someone else pushed open the thick door with a careless push. The darkness that crept up behind it, lurking under the door, had expanded, meeting Trent’s dazed, worrying gaze, and he peered over the edge, as far as Nivek’s hold on him would allow, past the long, descending flight of stairs that led down to an abyss of darkness, so black one could almost feel it.</p><p class="western">“What is this?” he asked, voice soft, so soft and faint that he could have barely spoke.</p><p class="western">Trent felt the heat drain from his face, and an unsettling, clammy, cold sensation fell over, like a wave of death warmed over and the icy rigor mortis setting in as he stared into the face of his own personal hell itself.</p><p class="western">“Your new home.”</p><p class="western">Trent had no time to cry out when he felt the heavy boot shove him viciously from behind, forcing him tumbling down the many stairs until he reached the concrete bottom. From there, he yelled as the pain settled in, the sound of the door slamming shut up above him.</p><p class="western">HEY PIG PIGGY PIG PIG PIG</p><p class="western">Raymond sat back against the bed on his elbows, chest rising and falling softly, evenly, a picturesque sight for Nivek. His lips closed elegantly around the cigarette between his lovely fingertips, and Nivek finally approached him with the lighter, the flame flickering once before snapping back with a click. He broke away just to look at Raymond’s face; the latter had eventually relaxed even more, eyelids fluttering, his regal-looking face appearing peaceful.</p><p class="western">“Finally alone?”</p><p class="western">Nivek nodded once, watched Raymond reach for his beer, watched the inflections of the muscles in his neck and throat ripple as he swallowed. It was mesmerizing. He sighed, and Nivek almost sighed with him but fortunately caught himself as he walked away, reached for his own, took a sip. “Comfortable?”</p><p class="western">Raymond looked his way, eyes giving him a good once over, and silently nodded, but Nivek knew better. He was aloof, aware, and more importantly, jealous. “That Reznor kid isn’t here with you, is he?” He sounded both resentful and regretful, and Nivek heard it in his voice. He merely chuckled, captured Raymond’s gaze with his own, as if possessing him, and murmured an assurance.</p><p class="western">“Stop worrying. You jealous?” It almost sounded like a command, something Raymond felt he could not disobey, and instead he nodded wordlessly, mouth shut. Of course he was jealous. Why wouldn’t he be completely green with envy? That “Reznor kid” had potential, possibly more than him, everything he knew that Nivek wanted in a musician. Hell, the roadie was more than fucking talented; it was only a matter of time before it turned out he did not need <em>them </em>anymore.</p><p class="western">As if Nivek could read his mind and thoughts, Raymond felt his eyes piercing into his flesh watchfully. Eyes that reminded him to relax. Or else. But regardless of that, he continued to talk. “He’ll be a fucking sellout in the next ten years, you wait and see,” he muttered, taking a long drag. Smoke unfurled out of his nostrils and mouth in soft, delicate plumes, and Nivek watched them dissipate. Lives as weak and small as vapor, he mused silently to himself. He ignored the retort, thinking black thoughts, and turned his back to Raymond.</p><p class="western">“Let me get you something else to ease yourself into it,” Nivek stressed, practically hearing the beer rush down Raymond’s throat and settle inside him where everything else worked and pumped and surged. It was so loud in there, Nivek almost grew deaf listening to the sounds of his insides. Raymond, seemingly more content with that suggestion, waited as patiently as he could with a small grin and casually raised his beer to his lips again.</p><p class="western">Raymond’s body was lithe and slim and beautiful, but what lay beneath, what lay under the skin made Nivek’s own dead insides coil and shudder in a pleasing way, aggravated with a ravenous demand that seemed to scream at him to <em>get on with it</em>. But he prided himself on his patience; it made the finality of it all all the more satisfying. Every vein, every artery, every valve of Raymond’s heart that pumped it, Nivek was hot with lust for it, desired every last drop, but tonight he would settle for just a mere taste if anything. And there he was, lying on Nivek’s bed like an unsuspecting sacrificial lamb. Nivek grinned to himself and reached down in the drawers of his bureau, finding what he was looking for.</p><p class="western">Holding it up in the light so that it shone but just out of the way so Raymond would not see it yet, Nivek admired the way it glinted and winked at him. He had only one moment for this to work, and he assumed he had seduced him enough with the so-called idea of fame to even get him here. Raymond was more than eager to disparage Trent behind his back, completely naive. Nivek tucked it away in his jacket and smiled at how easy it all was. Now was his chance. Someone was hungry downstairs.</p><p class="western">“You know, I don’t know why I’m even getting worked up over this,” Raymond chuckled to himself, shifting on the mattress and making the sheets rustle. “If you have a bump in there, Ogre, you better get over here. I need you.”</p><p class="western">Nivek raised an eyebrow while fingering the knife in his hands almost lovingly. “Be right there.”</p><p class="western">When he finally turned around and advanced on the bed, Raymond paled for just a moment at the sight of the obvious weapon in his grip. Nivek said nothing. Raymond leapt to his feet, visage pallid and faltering, and backed away.</p><p class="western">“What are you doing?”</p><p class="western">His voice quivered with every word. Nivek liked that. Like a doe caught in the brambles. He moved closer, faster, practically lunged towards him, enjoying the sharp cry of alarm that fell from his lips. He relished it even more as the terrible pain became evident in his voice as Nivek plunged the knife into his belly. Raymond only caught a flash of it, the eyes, the teeth, before those razor sharp fangs sank into his neck. He felt the blade twist viciously within him. If he tried to scream again, all sound was lost on him. He only heard the horrific sound of Nivek sucking the blood from his veins.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">More blood slipped between his fingers, dripping onto the hardwood floor below as Raymond stumbled through the halls as fast as he could, though not fast enough, with deep, shuddering breaths. Every inch of his body shook in the aftermath of having been fed on by that creature and the loss of blood. At one point, Nivek had finally released him and gave him one order: to <em>run</em>. What a joke. A cruel joke. Raymond began to hyperventilate, breaths becoming more and more shallow and labored as he went, but he knew that if he stopped even for a moment to catch his breath, Nivek would be upon him to finish his meal.</p><p class="western">Vampires? Raymond was beyond belief, and the fact that ran through his mind made him pale even more by comparison.</p><p class="western">Heavy footsteps like dull thunder down the hall behind him reached his ears almost like a warning, and, whimpering like a lost, injured puppy, Raymond attempted to move even faster than he knew he could. Wouldn’t make it very far, he began to accept, but he had to fucking <em>try</em>.</p><p class="western">“I’m growing bored with this game of cat and mouse, love,” Nivek called out, not too far behind him. <em>He was getting closer.</em></p><p class="western">A door opened somewhere, and then Raymond turned once, looking Hell straight in the eyes.</p><p class="western">“Boo.” Nivek grinned maniacally. Two hands met Raymond’s chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he fell down, down, down what seemed like a never-ending flight of stairs. Cold, hard concrete met him eagerly at the very bottom, and for a brief horrifying second, something snapped. Something <em>cracked</em>, he heard it, and groaned out in pain, managing to roll over onto his back, the white of his agony flooding his eyes to blindness. If he tried to move, all became futile as the dizzying, vibrating anguish started in his toes and crawled its way torturously up his calf. He yelped and lay still.</p><p class="western">“Help…” he struggled out weakly.</p><p class="western">“Who’s there?” a soft, husky voice quickly followed.</p><p class="western">Raymond wanted to cry. There was someone else down there that could possibly save him. “Please…” he sobbed. “I’m hurt. I think I’ve broken something. And that fucker stabbed me too. Get me out of here… please…” Raymond never thought he would be the one to resort to begging, but he swallowed his pride and waited for another response. Hopefully.</p><p class="western">“Can’t do that,” the voice rasped. “Busted my leg when he shoved me down here. We aren’t going anywhere.”</p><p class="western">“I can’t die here!” Raymond’s words slurred into the delirium of the pain, and every ounce of hope vanished instantly.</p><p class="western">As if on cue, the owner of the voice emerged from the curtained shadows looking battered and bloody and bruised, and Raymond immediately recognized him.</p><p class="western">“Reznor? Wh-what the fuck? What are you doing down here?”</p><p class="western">Filth and dirt smudged over his face, and his body was completely covered in dried blood. It only took seconds for the latter to notice that he was naked as well, and a sharp twinge of guilt washed over Raymond at the sight of the young man. Those vivid green eyes flashed his way, and for a moment, Raymond caught the fear and pain that lay hidden in plain sight within them, but something else as well. Something far more sinister and psychotic.</p><p class="western">“He’s punishing me…” Trent almost looked like a kid in Catholic school, ashamed at being struck by a nun with a ruler. Confused, Raymond tried to probe further but he went on in an exaggerated moan. “I’m so, so hungry…” He began to slide closer towards Raymond, a gesture that made the latter grow very uncomfortable. Trent’s broken leg slid limp behind him. “I need it. I can smell it.” He was probably delirious and fatigued, Raymond assumed, wondering just how long he had been down in this makeshift dungeon.</p><p class="western">Suddenly, he found himself face to face with Trent, who stared down at him like a cat to a fish in a tank, eyes wide and almost inhuman. He jumped and shuddered in pain, focusing on the poor creature above him who appeared fixated on the wound at his stomach.</p><p class="western">“You’re bleeding.” Trent stated it blankly but anyone else would have noticed the evident hunger in his voice.</p><p class="western">“Trent… what… fuck!” Raymond howled in agony. Trent had swung his good leg over and now straddled his waist, resting most of his weight on Raymond’s broken limbs. “What the fuck are you doing?”</p><p class="western">The “creature” above him shook, whether in his own pain or something else entirely. “I’m just really, really hungry.” Then he bent down, pushed his shirt up a little, exposing the wound that was still bleeding profusely. “Smells so good…” he moaned. He <em>moaned</em>. Raymond heard it, the heavy, needy breaths that fell from his lips, watched that tongue flick out to lick at the dried blood caked at the corners of his mouth. “Just one taste…”</p><p class="western">“Trent. Trent! Wai-” Raymond gasped, panic setting in as soon as he felt Trent’s wet tongue lave up the bloody wound. Then he screamed. “Oh fuck, you’re just like-” His next sentence ended in a shriek of deplorable pain. Trent had stuck his own finger into the wound, moving it around, and then pulled it out with a sigh of pure ecstasy and awe, bringing it to his lips.</p><p class="western">“Finish him off. And then you can go upstairs.”</p><p class="western">Trent turned his head upwards and blinked docilely and curiously into the light. Nivek stood in the doorway; behind him was the exit, his freedom.</p><p class="western">“That’s right, pet,” his master crooned, sauntering down the stairs. “Drink every last drop, and it will heal your leg. You can be up here with your creator again. You won’t have to live like this anymore.”</p><p class="western">Whatever was left of Trent’s humanity, the part that feared Nivek, feared his killer and his creator, made him hesitate, even if only for one split second of glancing down at the terrified man, his potential victim in pity. That all subsided when his ravenous hunger overtook him body and soul like a demon from hell, and he bared his fangs, countenance changing, an uncharacteristic growl escaping his open mouth. He was hungry, so hungry, dry as a dead leaf in the wind. He wanted to feel anything but this. He loomed down menacingly, tearing into Raymond’s wound just by his hip with his teeth, tearing into him like an animal and beginning to drain him mercilessly. Raymond screamed helplessly, begged him to stop, attempted to shove him off with weak, trembling hands, but Trent felt more so his strength returning, his leg healing, and he only continued avidly, wildly, grabbing those hands by the wrists and pinning them down and over his head.</p><p class="western">As Trent’s animalistic strength returned, Raymond felt his leave him. Panic washed over him, and he tried to struggle to get free, but those hands held firm. A shadow towered over him, and bleary-eyed, he stared up into the face of one of his attackers. Nivek looked smug, and he crouched low, leveling himself with him.</p><p class="western">“Help me…” Raymond whined deliriously.</p><p class="western">Nivek sniffed and looked cruel. “Didn’t I tell you to stop worrying?” That devilish grin was the last thing he saw before another set of fangs sank into his throat. Raymond choked, and his eyes rolled back into his head. A hand slammed over his mouth to stifle his noises, and then he finally allowed darkness to take him with a sob-like moan breaking from the back of his throat. It was not long before he stopped twitching beneath them.</p><p class="western">NONE OF THIS</p><p class="western">
  <em>It had healed me, and then I did not care anymore. </em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em> I did not care if the man from Pig lived or died after I was finished with him. He was already on the brink of death the moment Ogre plunged the knife in. Something died in me as soon as I drained him dry, and I did not care. He struggled, feebly, but I did not care. I did not care to feel or hesitate or allow any human guilt to wash over me the moment I came up for air that I did not need anymore. I was no longer human. I had no need for guilt. Instead, I became a predator that night. Perhaps Ogre saw something in me when he decided to turn me. Perhaps he saw my potential for the hunt and for murder. Perhaps that was his first mistake. </em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em> Now I am new. </em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em> Better in a sense.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em> All prior emotions- I have no need for them. Prior convictions, confidences, or lack thereof; they are gone, locked away in the back recesses of my mind that only I can break. If I ever wanted to. My only confidence is in the blood. Ogre told me it was all I needed. Earthy pleasures were few. If I wanted to fuck, I would but not unless I drained them after. With the power I hold over them now, they would beg for it, countless lives, short like vapor, begging for me to take their life in their moment of ecstasy. But my ecstasy is only fleeting. Ogre tells me the hunger is never ending, the curse of living forever, young, beautiful, powerful. Forever. He says curse, but sometimes I do not think he believes it. I certainly do not. It is opportunity. It is my life. </em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em> When I killed Raymond, I cried for hours underneath the steam of the shower head, letting the scalding water wash the rot of my body away, washing the rest of my humanity away. The next day I treated it for what it was. Yesterday’s news. </em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em> I could kill again.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em> He would never see it coming. </em>
</p><p class="western">FUCKING TEAR YOU APART</p><p class="western">They came together like some sort of black tie pair, overdressed, but splendidly, permeating a certain grandeur that one could almost smell. If it had a smell, it would be honey, cardamom, and cloves, spices and silk down the throat, enticing and intoxicating. In the undertone lay a special kind of darkness they carried when they walked proudly to their place in the grass. Held in their eyes, swathed heavy in black makeup and natural shadow, the darkness coiled like smoke effects on a stage about their ankles and feet. More mysterious than Bella Lugosi on the current screen before them. Dressed for attention, all eyes should have been on them, but everyone else resumed the film, eyes locked on the seduction of the classic monster. Apparently, they only let their presence be known to the select few they desired. That select few saw them instantly.</p><p class="western">Brian noticed them first and nudged Thim gently in the ribs to get his attention. They could not help but stare, but their rudeness was immediately forgiven. The Others stared right back. Their eyes alone beckoned them to come to them, allured them to make acquaintances, shake hands, <em>that was all they wanted. </em>Brian self-consciously bit his lip and then turned to Thim, who silently acknowledged them as well. It was a pins and needles feeling, not discomforting, but overwhelming, as if pulling them closer, to get off their blanket, get to their feet, and come to them. They did.</p><p class="western">When the blonde with locks like a lion’s mane offered his hand, Nivek paused, looked him up and down, and then took it, patting the space on the blanket next to him with his free hand. His name was Thim, and he looked like he belonged in a knock-off eighties hair metal band. His face was pretty with lidded eyes that scanned everything and a mouth made for smirking. Nivek thought he looked European, and he almost expected an accent when he spoke. Thim was not smirking now, though; he stared directly into Nivek’s eyes, who directed him to sit, holding his attention as one would with a string to a cat. Secretly, Nivek knew how easy it would be. He did not let go of his hand.</p><p class="western">Trent watched the taller young man sit beside him and offer a timid, sideways smile to him in greeting, introducing himself as Brian. Such a conventional name for such an unconventionally attractive person. Easy as a slice of cherry pie. His light, long hair shimmered against the projected light of the screen before them, and his eyes almost seemed to glow with it, the picture show reflected back in his irises. As it drew to a close, Trent dared to lock him in. He raised a hand to a stray lock of his hair, went to tuck it behind his ear when Brian caught him in his peripheral and quickly ducked out of the way. He stared at him head on with an accusatory expression on his face, but in seconds, Brian glanced past him, his countenance transforming to abject horror.</p><p class="western">Thim was gone, lost in the listless dream state of the power that Nivek had over him as he drank from the soft, tender flesh of his forearm. Warm blood ran down from Nivek’s lips and past his chin as he engorged himself. Calmly, knowingly, Trent turned back to face Brian, who tried to get to his feet and bolt; however, any chance of escape was futile. As if someone had snapped their fingers, Trent raised his hand again, and Brian froze in place, the terror draining from his visage and leaving only a blank demeanor. Running the back of his hand against his cheek, Trent smiled a cunning, little smile as he watched him fall deeper and deeper into the trance, the trap he laid out for him. When he crooked his finger, Brian moved in compliantly, fell into his chest, and Trent turned him around so that he lay in his lap, eyes staring up at the night sky yet staring at nothing.</p><p class="western">Trent smoothed his thumb over his puckered lower lip and then traced his index curiously over his throat and down towards the hollow where his collarbones met. So many perfect places to mark him and feed, and Trent groaned inwardly at the smell he gave off. Something sweet and bitter. This man was a complex of emotions still ready to be explored later in his life. Trent smelled his anger and angst, like ash and ember on a bonfire, smelled his lust as sweet as ripe strawberries dripping with their lush juices.</p><p class="western">To Nivek, Thim was black cherries and cigarette smoke, and his blood was chocolate and cream with those cherries bursting and coursing down his throat. He could not get enough of him, but he also knew that he could not just leave a dead body. When Thim whined, sob-like and pitiful, Nivek broke away finally and leaned in close, blood dripping from his very fangs as he whispered something in his ear. Instantly, Thim fell into a trance-like sleep, almost unbreakable, and collapsed into his lap.</p><p class="western">Brian breathed much more shallowly by now as though his body was starting to respond to Trent’s ravenous hunger as well, as if the connection had reached its peak and suddenly this young man unconsciously wanted him to feast on his blood and drain him to near demise. Trent seemed to ache with the need to taste him; it aroused him to the point of desperation, and he finally lowered himself down, arms clinging to his prey like a boa constrictor, teeth piercing the soft flesh of his throat, tongue meeting the hot, red blood that rushed out. On point of penetration, Brian gave a heaving gasp, hands lifting and then falling back to his sides lifelessly. The taste was enthralling, intoxicating, like chocolate and bourbon, sweet and bitter, and Trent took him in in large gulps one could almost hear. When he broke for air, his mouth hung open in a state of ecstasy, reeling as the blood surged through him, better than an orgasm. Blindly, his free hand snaked under his prey’s shirt so that he felt the intrinsic, entrancing beating of his heart. Trent moaned once and then dove back in avidly.</p><p class="western">INSIDE YOUR HIVE</p><p class="western">“You were good little pets for us tonight,” Trent crooned to the two humans both standing and wavering in a daze, his hands reaching up to caress their blank faces, “but you won’t remember this, any of this, at all.”</p><p class="western">The two watched them aimlessly, mindlessly saunter away, out of sight, into the darkness. Nivek turned to Trent and gave him a proud look of approval before moving on himself, expecting him to follow after. Trent waited in the shadow of ink with hardly the light of the moon to light their way and stared after his creator with what would have seemed to be an unreadable expression on his face. He sucked in a short breath, air that he did not need, and released it slowly, evenly. The quiet calm took over his bewildered mind like a gentle shroud of the darkness he coveted, and he searched the pockets of his jacket for Nivek’s knife that he remembered swiping from the bureau. A soft, elated, and relieved sound sprang from the back of his throat when his fist grasped the hilt.</p><p class="western">He took a step forward.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As it began, so it ended the same.</p><p class="western">Trent stepped over the body after staring at the contents of its eviscerated stomach pooling out in the grass and staining the ground red with the blood. The earth swallowed it, soaked it up, drinking its nourishment, and more from the torn throat of the cadaver offered to it as well. The blade of the knife was not the only thing stained with the garish, crimson blood; Trent nonchalantly licked his fingers clean and cast the weapon to the side, having no need of it anymore.</p><p class="western">THE PRECURSOR</p><p class="western">
  <em>The pretty thing’s blonde hair comes in short waves, resting inches above smooth shoulders covered in intricate tattoos that make their way down slim arms and stop at small yet capable hands. He sits on a stool at the dimly lit bar, and Trent glosses over the crop top he wears, stopping to stare at the dimples in his lower back. His heart would have thumped at the sight of it, but he takes a sip of his drink calmly and continues to stare as the beauty at the bar does the same. </em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em> When he lifts his glass to his lips, Trent notices black painted fingernails. Then the young thing stops, gaping closely at the glass in his hand as if staring at the reflection it offers. His brow furrows, and Trent realizes that he sees him, that he knows he is being watched. As if on cue, he turns and Trent lowers his drink, prepared to make his exit. He would wait for his prey outside, follow him in the shadows, feast, and leave, but he falters.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em> Two warm, large, brown eyes, like melted chocolate, look directly into his with no intention of looking away. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you liked it and want to let me know you did, leave a kudo, comment, and/or even recommend to a friend if you know someone who likes this type of story. Much appreciated. &lt;3</p><p>(As always thank you to those who have provided endless support and have been the pinnacle of patience.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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